Perfectly Fine
by musicalBlink
Summary: This is the story of the life and death of a boy. "It's hard. Being a kid and growwing up. It's hard and nobody understands." Humanstuck Sadstuck


**I've just been in a writing mood lately. So, here's another one shot for you lovelies. It's somewhat vaguely inspired by the song The End. by My Chemical Romance.**

**Obviously, I don't own Homestuck.**

A small boy, just barely able to speak coherently, is sitting on his mother's lap. His mother is crying softly, dabbing at her eyes in an attempt to stop her mascara from dripping down her cheeks. The boy doesn't understand why his mommy is crying; after all, mommies never cry and this should be no exception.

The boy tries to ask his mommy why she's crying, but she gently shooshes him and rubs his back. Some of the people sitting nearby stare at the two of them with sympathetic looks- but why are they doing that? Everything's perfectly fine... right?

Well, other than the yucky dress up clothing his mommy made him wear. It's just a black blob of uncomfortable and boring. For whatever reason, it looks like everyone's mommies forced them to wear icky black dress clothes, even the old man standing at the pedestal at the front of the room is wearing long, flowing, black robes.

The boy's mom suddenly holds him closer than before, sobbing uncontrollably. A feeling of dread starts to rise in the pit of the boy's stomach. No, something must be terribly wrong. Why is everyone crying? Adults aren't supposed to cry.

The boy's lip starts to tremble and he cries, not fully understanding why, but knowing that whatever it is, it's very, very bad.

* * *

The small boy is no longer a small boy. That's what his mommy says anyways. After all, he's in the first grade now. It's nearing the end of the school year. Same as every morning, his mommy picks out an outfit for him. Same as every morning, his mommy makes sure that he puts on the blue, striped scarf that he's learned to hate over the years.

"W-why do I hav-ve to w-wear this scarf?"

"Because it belonged to your daddy."

"But I don't ev-ven hav-ve a daddy." the boy protests.

She looks at the boy sadly. "You used to when you were really little."

"You're lyin'! I w-would remember if I had a daddy. You're just makin' that up so I'll w-wear this dumb scarf."

She looks even sadder for a moment, making him wonder if it would've been better to not say anything at all.

* * *

The boy slowly grows up. Throughout elementary school, he learns of the cruelty of children. They don't like him. They want nothing to do with him and they make sure to tell him that every day. He is the last to be picked, and even then grudgingly, for anything requiring teams. They say he looks weird. The oddly placed natural highlights in his bangs make him look like an alien. Only babies cry and let their mommies pick their clothes for them. Only stupid people wear scarfs in the midst of summer.

One day, the boy comes home with a black eye where one of the bigger kids had punched him. His mom demands to know who had done this to her baby (He winced every time she called him that. Couldn't she see that was the main problem?), but he just shakes his head and drags his backpack down the hall to his room. His backpack seems especially heavy today.

He goes into his room and looks into the mirror above his dresser. He sneers at his reflection, thinking back on what the other kids had said that day. His mom had always said the key to loving others was to love yourself, but he really couldn't imagine loving any of the people at school.

He was on the verge of crying when his mother came into his room to make sure if he was okay. He calmed himself and just barely managed a small smile.

"Don't worry, mom. Everything's perfectly fine. I just got hurt during P.E."

She looks at him doubtfully, but passes it off as nothing. She takes him into the bathroom to clean him up.

* * *

The boy is a freshman in highschool. Prom is in two weeks; girls are supposed to ask guys. He isn't expecting anyone to ask him to go, and he's okay with that. It's perfectly fine. The boy doesn't even want to go to prom in the first place.

He sits by himself during lunch with his back against a tree. He puts his earbuds in and does his best to ignore the obnoxious laughter and conversation of his peers. He can't believe he used to want to fit in with _that_ so badly. He's doing such a good job of drowning the world out that he doesn't even realize the girl approaching him

The girl is the most popular, loved girl in school. Most guys would kill to be with her. She's got the brightest, happiest smile in the world, eyes that sparkle even on the darkest days, and long, wavy hair, somehow reminiscent of a cape. To put it quite blatantly, she's gorgeous. The boy has only talked to her once (he was asking to borrow a pencil), but he still had an enormous crush on her.

The girl turns around and waves to her friends, giggling, before alerting the boy to her presence. Once he realizes who it is, he hurriedly removes his earbuds.

"Oh, hullo there." the boy says, wondering what it is she could possibly be doing over here. Instead of in the middle of her group of friends as per usual.

"Hi!" she says brightly. She looks down at the half-finished homework the boy had been working on. She laughs lightly, though not in a teasing manner. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anyfin... I can maybe talk to you later if you're too busy?"

"No! I mean," the boy clears his voice. "No, it's okay. I guess I can talk now. So, w-what's up?" He internally curses his stutter for the millionth time.

His moment of stupidity seems to go right over her head. "Sea... I was just wondering if you'd maybe like to go to prom with me?"

"Prom?" He looks around and chuckles, a light blush appearing on his cheeks. "I think you might be talkin' to the wrong person."

"No, I'm pretty shore you're the right guy!" The girl stuns him with that smile of hers again.

"Then, I w-would lov-ve to." he says, barely able to contain his joy.

"Great!" she skips off to her normal group of friends. "Sea ya then!"

He allows a crooked grin to appear on his face. "Yeah, sea ya."

* * *

She never came.

He arrived early with a single, white rose in hand. He dressed in his Sunday best. He did everything he could to try and prepare himself for this date, but she never showed.

I know what you're thinking: maybe the girl just got lost in the crowd and the boy didn't see her come in. However, that is an impossibility because the boy stood vigilantly at the door to avoid such a situation. He watched as all the others enjoyed their night and slowly filtered out and left.

Before leaving, he dropped the rose into the punch bowl, making it look as though it had been stained with blood. He sat down on the front steps of the school long after everyone else had left and called his mother.

"Hey, sweetie. How's your night gone so far?"

"Perfectly fine, mom."

"Are you sure? You sound kind'a upset..."

"I'm sure. I... Just... W-wasn't able to get a ride home. Can you pick me up?"

"I'll be their shortly."

"Okay, thanks, mom."

"And, sweetie?"

"Yeah?"

"What ever it is that's got you down lately... It'll get better okay?"

"I guess."

"All right. Love you."

"Love you, too."

He hung up.

* * *

She never came.

When midnight rolled around and there was still no sign of her, the boy came to the conclusion that his mother had probably forgotten him. He started to walk home, kicking shadows as he went.

He hadn't thought to bring his headphones, so he walked alone in the silence. The silence was quickly replaced with the sound of sirens. The boy disregarded it as irrelevant and kept walking. He didn't think twice of it until he realized that they had parked just a little ways ahead of where he was.

He frowned and jogged over to where all the commotion was. It was a car accident and the police were trying to identify the people in the two cars. One thing was certain: no one had lived through this. Both cars were unrecognizable from all the damage.

The boy wandered towards one of the cars, sympathetic curiosity about who the poor souls were. He looked into the driver's window (Or at least where it used to be; the glass was shattered).

He was terrified by what he found. "M-mommy?"

A nearby officer perked his ear at that. "You recognize her, kid?"

He stared in horror at his mother's mangled body and the look on her face- Oh god! Nonononononononono NO! This can't be happening. this can't be happening. She can't die. Please, no.

He tried to pry open the jammed door. Bruises are covering her entire body. There's no way she- No! She had to! Oh god.

The police officer pulled the boy away from her as he cried and begged to go back to his mom. The officer shakes his head sadly.

* * *

Her funeral was to be in five days; that's what his uncle said. The boy was to give a eulogy for his mother, said his uncle.

He went through the motions of every day life for four days and three nights. He stayed quiet and did his best to ignore the sudden attention he was getting.

On the fourth night, he told his uncle he was going to bed early. His uncle nodded his assent and continued reading the newspaper.

The boy put on the suit he was expected to wear the next day at his mother's funeral. He tied a short, sturdy rope to the ceiling fan. He tugged on it to test whether it would hold. He sets a desk chair underneath the rope.

Yes. Now the boy is ready for a funeral.

* * *

The next day, the uncle finds him. A small note is tucked into the pocket of his suit.

"_Everything is perfectly fine._"


End file.
